turned away. It was very still in the room.

"I went and stood close by his side, but I hardly dared to speak, it all
seemed so strange somehow. I wanted--Oh, you do not know how I longed to
throw myself into his arms, just to try to wake him; but you know
'propriety'.

"After a time--perhaps an hour, perhaps a minute--he suddenly rose and
kissed me on the forehead.

"'Goodby, dear,' he said, 'I think I had better not come any more,' and
he left the room without another word.

"After the door had closed behind him and I heard him stepping down the
walk, I put both my hands over my heart, just so, and held it tight, for
it seemed that it would bound out and go with him."

They sat in silence a little while after Jean ceased speaking, and then
she stepped behind her father's chair and dropped her arms around his
neck.

"No, father, you shall never be left alone as long as this big world
holds Jean. Lonesomeness is so big and dreary!"

She pressed her lips to his forehead and turned away.

Had such a favor been meted out to the disconsolate Mr. Allison, he
would no doubt have been immediately transported to a state of unalloyed
happiness. Not so with the judge. The very act, the very words, told him
that the woman's affections had been divided, and the streak of
selfishness that runs through all humanity had not been overlooked in
his make-up.

"Are you not really ashamed of me, father? Just think of it! Me, Jean
Thorn, of sound mind and adult years, falling in love with a liquor
dealer! It is too strange to believe, and yet I believe the situation
would be perfectly delightful if--if--well, if I were not 'my father's
boy.' But I will survive, let it be hoped, and if this maddening,
sickening, altogether unmanageable love one reads of had rushed upon me
like a whirlwind, it would be the same. The man I marry must not be a
'man atom of the great iniquity,' not even to the extent of his vote."

And lest she should mar the impression she hoped to leave upon her
father, Jean hurried from the room, waving her hand to him as she passed
through the door.

* * * * *

In her own room she sat down to think. Mechanically she unbound the
coils of red-brown hair that crowned her head, and holding the quaintly
carved silver pins which seemed a part of her identity in her hand, she
began a march to and fro across the room. There was no smile on her
face, rather a pained, unnatural look that h